


Honey Dust

by theharellan



Series: I Have Found a Home (Ian x Solas) [16]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Asexual Solas (Dragon Age), Other, Sensation Play, Sensual Solas, sensual intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23584561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theharellan/pseuds/theharellan
Summary: An impulse purchase at a stall in Val Royeaux pays off. For Solas, especially.Mild NSFW imagery, but nothing explicit.
Relationships: Fen'Harel | Solas/Original Character(s), Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), NB!Lavellan/Solas, Solas & Original Character(s), nb!solavellan - Relationship, solavellan - Relationship
Series: I Have Found a Home (Ian x Solas) [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/873849
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Honey Dust

“I put-- put-- I just dust it… anywhere?” Ian turns the jar in his hand skeptically, teeth pressing into his lower lip as he inspects its contents. Fine golden powder, ground like sugar, falls from one side to the other.  


Solas watches from the bed, legs pulled up under him. Fingers turn around a fine feather duster, too small to do the dustier corners of Skyhold any good, but a decent enough size for its intended purpose. “Presumably, save the places you would rather not put your lips.”

Only his teeth serve to temper his impish grin. It inspires a soft flutter in Solas’s stomach before Ian can give voice to its meaning. “So, anywhere.”

He is giddy in his eagerness, cheeks flushed at Ian’s shamelessness. It takes a concentrated effort to swallow and respond with a coy, “As I said.” The response draws bark-like laughter to Ian’s lips, and the lid pops off the jar with a soft thunk. “I found it in Val Royeaux,” he says as Ian pinches it between his fingers, “and thought of you, or perhaps, us. If you would rather, I would be happy to use it on you, instead.”

“No.” His answer is quick, though after a moment he adds, “Not tonight.” Ian tastes it, pressing it to the tip of his tongue. “I would, that is, I want to use it on you. Have you-- have you tasted it?”

“I’ve not had the pleasure, no.”

“Here.” He rises onto his knees, the tip of his finger coated in dust, and walks forwards on his kneecaps to offer it to Solas. His other hand falls deliberately onto Solas’s thigh, a convenient place to steady himself. “Taste it.” He closes his lips around the tip of his finger, not breaking eye contact as he sucks the honey from it. It tastes like the last gulp of an improperly stirred cup of tea, or the last sliver of honey that clings to the teaspoon. “And?”

Ian is already reaching back to draw the jar towards him, capping his fingers with another thin layer. No answer comes to Solas, distracted by the pressure of a fingertip on his lips, tracing their shape as they have a hundred times before. He braces for the kiss that’s sure to follow, eyes drifting shut, but Ian tsks gently. “Not yet,” he teases, “I’m saving it-- I’m, I’m keeping it for later.”

Being denied only quickens his heartbeat, anticipation mounting as Ian presses his hand against his bare chest, not pushing him against the mattress but suggesting. No orders are spoken, no commands uttered, yet still Solas does as he is bid. He falls back against the bed, sinking as Ian maneuvers over him. The feather duster slips between his fingers, surrendered with the rest of him.

For a moment, there is nothing. Only the soft creak of the bed’s foundation and the sound of his own breathing in his ears.

Then, the pleasant touch of a feather grazes over exposed skin. In its wake it leaves fine crystals, so light he cannot feel them ‘til he shuts his eyes and concentrates upon the foreign weight. His stomach clenches, resisting the urge to laugh and spoil the intimacy of the moment with the ugly sound of his snort. Ian idles in the hollows of his hips and smooths across the soft rise of his stomach.

“I was hoping you’d be laughing by now.”

An abrupt stream of air escapes between his lips, the beginning of what Ian had desired, sucked in at the last minute. “I... can be difficult when I want to be,” Solas replies carefully. He lifts his head off the mattress, just far enough to see the thoughtful expression on Ian’s face. How he bites down on the inside of his cheek before seemingly accepting his obstinance. He bows until Solas can only see the top of Ian’s head, unkempt curls spilling across his skin.

The first kiss is light as the feather that heralded it. He arches his back into the next, and the one that follows, the hands that come to rest upon his waist fill the empty space between him and the mattress.

Teeth follow, satisfying and sharp. They pull a sigh from his throat, muscles clenching as Ian releases him, proud laughter warm along his side. “Not so difficult,” he muses with an audible grin. But he does not dwell upon the victory. Wet lips press against the raised skin, then trail along the curve of his hips. Newly bared skin shivers as his waistline is pulled another inch lower until it settles across his thighs. The chill does not persist, edged away by the flush Ian’s touch inspires.

One year ago, one thousand, he could not have imagined bliss this concentrated in a solid form. It was Ian’s spirit that drew him, but this...

His thoughts melt into mindless pleasure, time tumbling, minutes idling by. The front of him shines with impressions of Ian’s teeth. Elvhen words spill from his lips, and fingers clutch at their unmade sheets. He tastes his own mouth-- sweet, the same flavour Ian has dusted him with. “Ian...” Solas speaks up, enunciating his name rather than sighing it. 

It is enough to grab his attention, chin lifting until their eyes meet. “Yes?”

“I’m still waiting for you to kiss me.”

His expression breaks into a silly smile, laugh shaking the both of them. “What do you think-- what... what have I been doing until now?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do, Solas.” But he grins all the wider when he says it. A terrible liar, even in jest.

Before he can give voice to what he had stopped to say, he notices a gold spot on Ian’s nose, smudged over freckles. He snorts, heart burning with a different kind of longing. “You have something on your nose.”

“O-oh. Can you...”

“Come here.”

The bed wavers as Ian wiggles up it, bringing their faces level. He’s still, eyes reflecting the same anticipation he’s sure his had moments ago. Solas lifts his head, kissing the honey from the tip of his nose. He sinks back, gaze holding as Ian’s eyes skirt his face as if he’s looking at it for the first time. The hand that falls on his cheek is warm, the cold magic that so often burned beneath Ian’s fingertips outdone by their coupling. “Thank you.”

“You know how you can repay me.”

“Do I?” He giggles with honeyed breath. His thumb strokes down Solas’s cheekbone until it meets with the edge of his lip. “I suppose I do.”

Any smart response is lost as Ian dips his head to meet him. Lips part, the taste of his kiss sweet on his tongue. A smile burgeons upon his face, suppressed by an unwillingness to break their kiss. Affection blooms in his chest, and for once he does not curse the Veiled world for the language it stole. Here-- together, it is simple. He braces the back of Ian’s head, fingers combing through red waves, slipping away from the world in ways he had not dreamed before Ian.

Then anchoring himself to another, and praying he need not let go.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for theshirallen on Tumblr!


End file.
